You love to hear yourself talk.
Trying to lure me in, calling yourself a butcher.
Are you kidding me with this? Who the hell gave you an education?
And you go on and on and I can barely stay awake.
And I paid money for this? This excrement of the bourgeoisie?
Universities drop you like a hot potato once you’re finished
And they have all your money.
And I look at those who were
Deemed the best and thought how well-mannered they got in line.
I preferred the silent contemplations of a freethinker
Over your loud and boisterous and overconfident opinions.
You learned everything by heart and succeeded. Forgot everything after two months.
The future leaders, ladies and gentlemen, the so-called overachievers.
You know your anecdotes, the misogyny sits tight, your hands in your pants.
And I look at the small-minded crowd and how they kneel,
Yes, you are a god indeed, and everybody is so very impressed, you went
Straight back into your little comfort zone. You with all of your petty titles and money.
What else is there? And you knock on my door, wanting to judge me.
Who are you to fucking judge? Or execute? Please, leave me alone and
Continue to screech your sycophancy in your homely barn.
You, the high priest, the all-knowing, full of self-definitions.
Of course you are successful in your own little world.
You’d never start a revolt, you are tucked in all nice and clean,
Your balls licked, what else do you want?
I know, I know, it’s never enough, there’s always something missing.
You are so full of shit, I know it hurts, but you buried yourself
In your own pigsty. You and I live in two different worlds.
I have no respect for yours.
I don’t betray myself.
And you betray everything that you pretend to care for and about.
You have no idea what love is. You want to possess and align and showcase.
I take the dust, please.
Nothing is a bigger waste of time than listening to your pretentiousness.
I’d rather put my fingernails in my cereal.
Your institutions sold out, it’s all about the money now.
I get my education elsewhere until I die.
Body academic, body corrupt, students forever indebted, a weightless piece of paper.
You hot potato.
Self-congratulating bunch of old farts kissing each other’s asses.
I create my own education. Choke on your money.
Croque-Melpomene 